A Survival Story
by matthew.minnich.14
Summary: An intense story filled with suspense! One man, left to save his friend Paul and bring him to safety from the hoards of zombies that roam the city.


Survival (A Zombie Story)

The elevator steadily rose as I looked self- consciously at my shotgun, reassured myself that it was fully loaded. I gently moved my arm up and down over my bowie knife ensuring myself it was still there (This had become a bad habit I had inherited it in response to the war). The battle had been raging on for weeks, ammo was a rarity and when scarce objects ran out, my only protection would be this knife.

At last the elevator came to a halt at the top floor. Apprehensively I unclipped a grenade from my belt and waited for the doors to open. Finally, in what seemed like a century, they slid back exposing me whole. Hastily and without thinking, I ripped the pin out the grenade and threw it into the hall. I turned and braced myself against the back of the elevator. The grenade exploded.

"Dammit," I turned slowly only to see Paul. He was resting upon the side of a cubicle, blood spilling all around him. "What were you thinking?" he exclaimed. "I figured there might be some zombies left." "Do I look like some kind of zombie to you?" I didn't answer. I was embarrassed and sat down next to him with my face in my hands. Right then, I heard a loud groan and nervously looked up. A zombie had just entered the room and was heading straight for us. As quickly as I could I grabbed my shotgun and blasted two shots straight into the zombie's chest. It flew back into the wall, dead. Paul screamed, "Let's get out of here. We can patch that up later." I assisted him to his feet and we entered the elevator.

As soon as the doors shut, the metal box plummeted through the shaft and we landed forcefully into the ground. "What the…." I exclaimed. Immediately, the lights went out and we were surrounded by darkness. We didn't say a word but waited, silently. Then, distorted sounds emanated from above. I figured the noises were from more zombies. I aimed my shotgun and blasted a couple rounds through the ceiling. From the fresh bullet holes blood started seeping through and splattered onto the ground. The noises ceased and I slowly and carefully examined my surroundings. I struggled to see through the darkness and avoid the shattered glass.

We were stuck. Next to me was a glimmer of light and I could see again. Paul had flicked on his lighter. "How we gunna get out?" Paul said. I ignored him and kept looking for a way out. I stared out into the lit up city before me. "Hey, stop glaring at that damn glass and answer me!" Glass…..that was it! I grabbed my knife from its holster and raised it to the glass. "What do you think you're doing?" Paul said. I started stabbing the glass rapidly. "What's your problem?" he snapped. Then, the glass was finally feeble enough, so I kicked at it and jumped out of what remained of the elevator.

The fall was approximately 5 feet and I survived with only a few scrapes. "Come on down!" I called to Paul. My voice echoed through the shaft. The feeling of being by yourself in these times was unfathomable for me, and I wished Paul would hurry up. Slowly he swung his two legs over the remainder of one of the elevator's walls, and after getting situated, jumped. Upon contact he screamed. "You want zombies to come kill us!" I questioned angrily at his lack of stealth. "You try jumping 5 feet with shrapnel up your ass!" We constructed a poorly made fire using Paul's lighter and waited out the night. You didn't want to roam the streets at night if you didn't have to; it was the zombies' prime time to hunt. Frankly, I didn't feel like becoming a zombie happy meal.

The sun rose and I went to wake Paul who had fallen asleep. Jokingly, I punched him in the shoulder. No movement, no response, nothing. "Stop kidding around, we have to get back to the shelter." He didn't move. I went to check his pulse and quickly became seriously concerned. There was nothing. He was….dead. I sat down and wept. For how long I don't know, but when I finally stopped I took out a cross from my backpack. Religiously, I made the sign of the cross over his body. Afterwards, I silently said a prayer directed to him and his life.

When I couldn't stand to see his corpse any longer, I left with sorrow in my heart and tears in my eyes. I would never survive on my own, amid a zombie playground. After I deliberated for what seemed like an eternity, I decided that I would kill as many zombies as I possibly could, in honor of Paul. I started to roam the city. I went so far so that I was in the center of four buildings in an old abandoned park. In my deepest voice, still filled with the sound of sadness over Paul's death, I began swearing at the zombies. Using a combination of all the hurtful words I could think to scream at them, not stopping to take a breath.

When a huge pack of zombies gathered around me, a mere shotgun and knife wouldn't be sufficient to eliminate a hoard of this size. I took out all the grenades I had and pulled the pins. Then, I angrily chucked them into the air. The area around me soon was filled with explosions. When the smoke cleared, I realized I was alone in the city once more.

Zombie corpses lay deformed around me. And when I thought I made sure I was alone, I got up to leave when a sharp pain struck my neck. I turned and saw yet another zombie. I went for my knife and noticed it wasn't there. I must've left it back at the elevator. This was it. I, for the last time, grabbed my remaining grenade, pulled the pin, and closed my eyes. The loudest sound I had ever heard entered my ears and I flew into the air and took my last breath.


End file.
